


Five Star Trailer Park

by smolhombre



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Can I say I'm sorry Again?, Flawed characters, Flawed is an understatement perhaps, Genuine Care and Affection, I'm Sorry, Juggalos, M/M, Strange Porn Watching, This is a joke if it wasn't clear, eventually, garbage fire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 14:11:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11150067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolhombre/pseuds/smolhombre
Summary: There's a lot of porn on the internet, but Hux keeps coming back to one channel in particular.





	1. Chapter 1

BeeBee (Hux resented on their behalf whoever named the poor kid Beatrice) was both shorter and rounder -- both by a large margin -- than their classmates. Coupled with the wild, untameable curls and unfortunate bangs crowning their head in a shade so fiery it made Hux’s own hair seem lackluster, they were ripe for schoolyard bullying.

Certainly their apparent parental unit, one obscenely handsome Poe Dameron, currently perched on the corner of Hux’s desk, seemed concerned about it, anyway. From all Hux had seen, the kid was basically a mafioso of their grade, and their classmates held them up as some sort of pubescent demigod when rumors of their Slim Jim trafficking ring started gaining traction after the snacks were banned from the cafeteria in a healthy snacking campaign by the PTA.

“Mr. Dameron, the only thing you should be concerned about is BeeBee’s latest test grade.”

Poe ruffles his thick, beautiful hair, frowning, and Hux resolutely doesn’t notice the stretch of his shirt over his shoulders in the process.

“No offense, man, but a kid’s self esteem is more important than sixth grade science. Bullying could mess them up for life.”

“So could not graduating and slinging fries for a living.”

“There is nothing wrong with working in the fast food industry. And it’s just one test!”

“They confused the nucleus and the mitochondria! And it’s more than one test!”

“Mitochondria? What -- ”

“The _powerhouse of the cell_!”

The other man rubs a hand over his face, stepping back from the desk. Hux only barely manages from doing the same; one more disgruntled parent complaint to the principal and Phasma would have to take some sort of action, regardless of what she wanted to do.

“I don’t know -- look, I’ve only ever been good at one thing, and the military didn’t teach me how to parent,” Poe sighs finally, looking sadly wistful. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take this out on you. I’m just, I’m going in blind here. What is there -- extra credit or something, tutoring, they can do to bring their grade up?”

Hux taps the end of his pen on his desk. “You were in the military?” He asks slowly.

“Airforce pilot.” Poe pauses. “Were you?”

Hux clears his throat. “Back home, I was. Medically discharged.”

"I...same, actually."

A few moments of silence pass. “If you get BeeBee to agree to come for tutoring during their lunch period for the next two weeks, I can let them retake the test. Just this last one, though.”

Poe looks like he might lean over the desk and kiss him, but that could just be wishful thinking on Hux’s part. He doesn't usually offer individual tutoring, truth be told. Maybe he was just as susceptible to little BeeBee’s strange, brash charm as their classmates.

Maybe he was just thirsty.

Outside, BeeBee knocks on the door.

“Pooooeeeeeee, I’m hungry!” They trill. Poe looks at his battered watch, hissing.

“Listen, buddy, sorry I kept you so late. I gotta feed the kid dinner. Hold on, Bee!” He calls when they give the classroom door a none too gentle shake. “I’ll let them know about the tutoring.”

Hux shakes his hand -- warm and wide -- and manages to not cradle his head in his hands until the door is closed behind him. He doesn’t look up when Mitaka, his hallway neighbor and the Honors-Track English teacher, knocks on his door, asking to go out for drinks.

He declines, as he always does, telling Mitaka to send his regards to his wife Molly.

***

Kylo found very little happiness in his day job, except for the fact it was generally zero effort and he could usually get away with getting high before his shifts. If he’s being fair, he can’t think of anyone who would actually enjoy the fast food industry, save maybe Finn, his square manager.

Finn was also only in like, the seventh grade or something. So any of his opinions were automatically null and void. Including those about his demo, ( _especially_ those about his demo), which was currently playing on the speakers through the combo KFC, Taco Bell, and Pizza Hut attached to the aging Crenco gas station off of exit 73C he was burdened to work in until the DJ gig started working out.

“Man, listen, you can play that when no one is here, Kylo, but it’s almost dinner time, I don't want to hear any more complaints about it -- ”

“I am,” Kylo begins, swiping a stray, fallen tomato from the set up station behind the counter and popping it in his mouth, “the drive thru _manager_. And I have worked here for long enough to have some say in our PA choices.”

“Kylo, you can’t just eat stuff off of the bar like that -- ”

Overhead, the bell dings as a customer walks in, their first in upwards of an hour, since Ass Dan had come by to take a quick hit behind the dumpster out back. Kylo gets the first glimpse of thick, dark curls and knows Finn has disappeared into thin air. He used to have that reaction around Poe, too, when he was Finn’s age, and can’t really judge him for it.

He does, of course. But he, like, shouldn’t.

“Hey Weirdo!” Little BeeBee barrels up to the sticky counter, looking up at the backlit menu as if they’re going to deviate from their usual order.

“Y’all are late. And still annoying.”

“Had a parent teacher conference, man. Bee was ‘bout to break the door down to get us here.”

“Where is my Baja Blast and five piece, crotch face?”

“Where is my cash, kid?”

Poe reaches for his wallet in his back pocket, and Kylo half imagines he catches a peek of the two sparrows tattooed on the lowest part of his stomach in a nosedive towards Poe’s dick. He got them at the same after party Ben got the wobbly looking middle finger on his left ass cheek, ten years ago when Slipknot had a tour stop two hours north. That tattoo in particular looked like shit compared to his others, so Ben can only imagine the sparrows haven’t fared much better. Still, at the time they were nice to mouth at.

He crams the crumpled bill in the till and all but shoves the drink at the kid to keep them satisfied while he gets their food ready.

“I think I was supposed to get some change there, buddy -- hey, Finn! How’s it going?”

Finn, apparently out of plausible reasons to hole up in the back room, has reappeared, looking resolutely anywhere but the register and Poe's wide, genuine smile.

“Hey Finn,” Kylo calls over his shoulder, grinning maliciously. “I think you have to open this till for me, I just closed it on accident and Poe needs his change.” If Finn were not such a good person, Kylo thinks he might have gotten blessed out as Finn moves to open the till with the manager’s code. As it is, Kylo just starts plating the brat’s dinner in no particular rush, one hand tapping in time with the beat of his own vocals through the speakers at the hatchet man pendant chain hanging on his chest.

When the song stops, Kylo eavesdrops without remorse as he selects the least soggy pieces of chicken for BeeBee.

“Here you go, sorry about that.”

“No worries. Hey, how is your semester going?”

“It’s fine, I’m looking for an internship at the local school district to get my student teaching out of the way before my capstone next year. Dr. Phasma at -- ”

“Holy _shit_ , man, that’s where Bee --”

“Wait.” Kylo steps around the counter to give BeeBee their tray before giving Finn a squinting once over. “What are you talking about? Ain’t you like twelve?”

Finn looks like he is biting off a scream as Poe tries in vain to hide his giggles behind his hand.

BeeBee socks him in the back of the head with a perfectly aimed hot sauce packet.

“Let them flirt in peace, clown fucker! I mean it! The next hot sauce is going on your dick!”

“ _BeeBee_ , what have I said about swearing --”

“Joke’s on you, punk ass, I like that.”

Kylo wiggles the Newport Menthols out of his back pocket in the ringing silence that follows, waving them at Finn on his way out the door. “Smoke break.”

“I wish I could fire him,” Finn says softly, and Poe can only clap him sympathetically on the shoulder.

***

Hux’s evenings are Pavlovian and decidedly pathetic. He stays at work as late as he can without catching Mitaka’s attention, grading papers and doing lesson plans for well into next year. He stops sometimes to pick up a salad at EarthFare, otherwise eating a Lean Cuisine at his ranch-style insta-home, settled in the middle of a community still under construction; a small, discreet beige blip between the mounds of red clay and stacks of lumber off of the bypass.

Then, after sweeping his kitchen, starting the dishwasher, and ironing his khakis for the next day (setting out tomorrow’s bow tie and pocket square on his dresser), he pulls up _ky10r3npr0duct10ns_ on PornHub and pretends his dick isn’t conditioned to start getting hard with the first few chords of Static X’s “Push It” and Microsoft MovieMaker’s 3D Word Art effect.

Tonight is no different, though when he sits down, arranging his laptop so he can see the screen while still stretching out comfortably on his bed -- a towel underneath his hips and buttocks, a habit he had never really let go from middle school, certainly not now that he was responsible for his own laundry -- he deflates seeing Kylo hasn’t updated anything new this week.

Scrolling through their library, Hux briefly considers the watermelon video, AKA “Old Faithful,” (half of the video’s six thousand hits were from Hux playing it on loop one drunken weekend that left his dick mad at him for days after) but he decides he doesn't have the energy for it after all the parent teacher conferences this afternoon.

Just barely, he feels his cock twitch at the reflexive shame he feels, a middle school teacher not an hour out from work and rushing home to look for white trash porn on the Internet. Some of which involved fruit fucking, others that strange yet almost precisely applied juggalo makeup, and all of which involved Kylo’s horrendous taste in music and lackluster graphic design skills. And that monster cock.

_Right, yes, let’s not forget what we came here for._

In the end, Hux selects one of the earliest videos, just the long faced man staring into and slurring profanities at the camera around the cigarette nub clenched between his teeth while jacking off, the ridiculous hatchet chain bouncing on his naked chest in time with his strokes.

Sometimes, Hux pries himself open and brings out “Mean Bastard Eugene,” the biggest dildo Bad Dragon carried, which he ordered drunkenly after thinking long and hard about what it would be like to have something near the size of Kylo Ren in him. The embarrassment kept it in the bottom drawer most of the time, combined with the time and effort it takes to open himself up enough to ease it in, but tonight he remembers the stretching, insistent burn and feeling of inescapable fullness as he starts stroking himself in time with the video, imagining the added weight of an actual person pushing into him, draping over his back and bearing down against the flimsy weight of his protests.

On the screen, Kylo’s breath is coming out in loud, shallow pants, and Hux’s own strokes are as frantic as the ones on screen. When Kylo finally spills all over his own hands and thighs, Hux follows, revelling in the lightheadedness and residual tightness in his thighs and low in his belly as the background music fades out and the video ends.

Hux dozes for a few minutes, nearly submitting to sleep altogether before managing to lift his hips up, using the towel to clean himself off.

Normally, he would get up to put the dirty towel in the hamper, but flings it instead to that general vicinity of the room to deal with tomorrow. Sprawled out on his back, he wonders if his evening would have been less mortifyingly pathetic if he would have just asked BeeBee’s respectable looking paternal figure out, or even taken Mitaka up on his offer, rather than rushing home to rub one out over some redneck with a clown fetish.

He’s half curled on his side and more asleep than awake when the first PM comes.

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** yo lmao whenre u ever gonna hmu or nah


	2. Chapter 2

Hux has had wet dreams start out stranger -- especially after watching that first video with the cantaloupe, (he’ll never drive past a Barnes and Noble in peace now, and certainly can’t go in one again; the jury is still out on if White Castle had the same moratorium) -- but he thinks he read somewhere that words and numbers weren’t supposed to work in dreams and so that means --

Jerking up so roughly he knocks the laptop fully off of the bed, Hux lets out a glass-shattering screech.

“Shit, fucking -- goddamn, jimminy _dickmunching_ cricket -- mother _fucking cock_ sucker -- dammit, dammit, _dammit_.”

When he finally manages to pull the computer back up onto his bed, struggling to grip it in his suddenly fumbling fingers, he stares at the message for a solid three more minutes before typing out, with his left index finger only:

“Excuse me?”

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** bitch lmao u thought i dont c u???

 **cwbhii135:** all the sudden you have an issue w/people watching the porn you post on the internet?

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** all the sudden u acting like u aint fukken desprate thirsty 4 my dick????????

Hux wasn’t under the impression anyone who posted the type of videos Kylo Ren did was some Ivy League graduate with a diversified stock portfolio, but he feels some reflexive sneer tighten at his mouth at the spelling errors and slang. He resolutely ignores the shameful, similar tightness starting to coil low in his groin, underneath his ebbing panic.

 **cwbhii135:** seems like your dick is nicer than the rest of you

 **cwbhii135:** so.

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** nd how many times did u watch me  && tht watermelon b4 u formed that opinion ur fukin highness

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** NEWAY when u cummin over

 **cwbhii135:** you cant be serious.

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** ye trick or treat bitch

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** y the fuck wuld i b joking?

 **cwbhii135:** did you never stop and think I could be a serial killer? Do you not care about safety??

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** u aint

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** and i would kick ur ass.

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** if u were.

A picture of a familiar dick fills the message window, impressive even when only half hard and resting in one of his massive, calloused mitts. Hux bites his fist, looking skyward. _Goddammit._

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** wit hthis ;)

 **cwbhii135:** you offer sex to strangers often?

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** omfg ok listen bitch either ur comin or not what r u a cop or sth?? whats it matter jesus

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** ....u aint tho rite

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** a cop!!

 **cwbhii135:** now you’re worried!!

 **cwbhii135:** anyway what do you mean come over I could be in bolivia for all you know

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** ur profile says detroit

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** u dumbass

All the blood drains from Hux’s face. Had he done that?

 **_ky10r3npr0duct10ns_:** u kno wat tho u rite send me a pic first 3138162954

...It couldn’t make anything worse, he reasoned.

Of course, it _could_ , objectively. Probably, really. Hux isn’t a total moron.

Well, he clearly _is_ to be in this situation at all, but there’s also an argument to be made that this man had already called him out for watching him fuck a watermelon not once, not twice, but perhaps upward of a hundred times. What could any one man lose after that?

Grabbing his phone off of the nightstand, Hux scrolls through his camera roll where his grindr profile picture is (a small but open mouthed smile to show he had all his teeth, though nothing above the top of his nose in frame, and the light purple button up that didn’t wash him out or make him look too ruddy, the first few buttons undone to show the freckled collarbone underneath) and sends it before he can chicken out.

A reply lights up his screen immediately.

“Twink!!! I fuckin knew it Ok u cna come ovr”

Hux feels all the air whoosh out of him at once, barely able to read the address that follows.

“Why are you typing so poorly?"

“Cuz im fuckign jacking it u dumbass r u comin over r wat?”

“Now?”

“are u always like this”

Frowning, Hux snaps his laptop closed and tosses his phone on the bed as he gets up, crossing to the bathroom to do the “quickie cleanse,” hardly able to believe himself.

***

It was his second favorite bong, a repurposed Mr. Potato Head that he got for free on eBay (rather, for a trade of a fisting/butternut squash video, which is basically free), only Butt Dave, that absolute shithead, had dropped it on their last move out of Leia’s living room and cracked it. He’d offered his prized MLP bong as some sort of apology, but Kylo knew for a fact that had seen places on and in Butt Dave’s body that even Kylo wasn’t brave enough to venture.

Regardless, he trips over it on his way to the door where his twink was waiting for him, completely shattering the pipe.

“Mother _fucker_!”

 _This better be_ , he thinks savagely, _the best fucking lay_.

On the other side of the door, the ginger -- _sweet god_ \-- wears a tart twist on his decently full mouth, and a brow furrowed in disapproval, and maybe a little disgust. Certainly his trailer wasn’t the nicest in the lot. Kylo feels lightness start to bubble in his chest. He’s handsome in the waspy kind of way men in his mother’s office were, and slight almost despite his height.

Fuck the bong.

Grinning slow and wide, Kylo extends his hand. “Kylo Ren.”

He hesitates.

“Hux. Are you inviting me in or are we fucking on your porch?”

Kylo grabs Hux by the scrawny hips and pulls him flush to his own. “You into that shit? Where people see you?”

“Just get in the goddamn house,” he breathes -- it’s almost full dark out, but the dim, yellowing bulb he has fixed on the small overhang covering his porch shows a splotchy red peppering his skin underneath the sallow light.

“You that wet to see the watermelon in real life?”

Hux trips over the doorway, grabbing the back of Kylo’s shirt to remain upright.

“Ex- _excuse_ me? You still -- you still _have_ that?”

“It’s good luck,” Kylo shrugs. “Do you wanna see it? I keep it in the fridge so it don’t go bad --”

Hux looks like he chokes on his spit there for a minute before releasing his shirt and standing straighter, pressing a hand to his forehead

“I mean, you ain’t gotta? Or nothing. Seems like you like it is all --”

Hux plasters himself to Kylo’s front, pulling him down by the neck to press a hasty, sloppy kiss only half on his mouth. It’s not bad. “Please,” he speaks between little bites and licks at Kylo’s lips, “do not. Bring up the -- that fruit, right now.”

Kylo smiles into the kiss, because he _absolutely fucking would_ bring up “that fruit” again, but for now he settles on biting back at Hux’s mouth, cradling the back of his head and pulling it back with a tight fist in his hair to better lick into it, sloppy, filthy and more enjoyable than he figured it would be with some fucking weirdo who watched him jack off every day, usually several times a day.

Hux is pawing impatiently at the hem of Kylo’s shirt, trying to pull it off without breaking the kiss.

“Take it off, jackass.”

Kylo’s other hand reaches to the tented front of Hux’s pants and squeezes hard.

“You bouta shoot one off already?” Hux grinds into Kylo’s palm before wrenching backward and out of his grip. He turns around to face the only door visible from the open living room/kitchen area of his trailer.

“Is that the bedroom?” He says breathlessly, turning to walk towards it without waiting for an answer.

“You are, oh my god,” Kylo crows. “Fuck, you’re good for my -- shit, what is it? Self-esteem.”

Hux turns on his heel, cheeks the same color as his hair.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Only if you can watch.”

Kylo catches the crook of his elbow as Hux storms towards the door.

“Alright, okay. Jesus. Chill out, you tight ass square. You think I’m gonna be mad you for wanting to sit on my dick? Ain’t like you’re the first.”

“I assume that’s why you put the videos on the internet to begin with,” Hux says shrilly. “I’m upset at the way you are speaking to --”

“I don’t put them out for like, hook ups, though.”

“You -- what? Why am I here? I texted your address to a friend, if I’m not at work tomorrow the police will --”

Kylo puts his hand over Hux’s babbling mouth. A headache starts to pound at his temple.

“Shut up, what the fuck? Are you like, on medicine or something?”

Hux bites his palm. Kylo feels him gag underneath it and smirks before pulling back.

“When is the last time you _washed your hands_?”

“Look, I’m just trying to get my name out for this DJ shit to pick up. I do all the mixing in my videos myself, you know.”

Hux looks at him for a very long, quiet minute. He turns to the door and braces against it, his forehead flush to the thin wood. He still doesn’t speak.

***

Hux has never cried within a four hour window pre or post coitus, but there’s warm wetness pooling heavy behind his eyes and his throat is tight the way a good cry usually feels.

“You...fuck yourself with fruit in...hopes -- you think that will help you become a DJ?”

“I’m already a DJ,” Kylo corrects him emphatically.

He can’t keep the sob down when it comes.

“Are you alright, man?”

“Just -- fuck me and be done with it so I can go home.”

Its very still and quiet before anything happens.

Kylo folds himself over Hux’s back, one arm wrapped around his waist. The other rucks up his shirt, brushing purposefully over his nipples. Hux tries to make himself loosen up under it. Kylo pinches and scratches and it starts becoming genuine when he sucks bruises into Hux’s neck alongside. He arches forward into the cage Kylo’s arms make around his torso, hissing when his nails scratch on the side of too-hard. Hux doesn’t even mind the weed/Pizza Hut/Axe smell too badly when the weighty promise of Kylo’s dick grinds against the cleft on his ass through his jeans.

“You gonna fucking beg?”

“Fuck you,” he spits, even as his cock twitches with the desire to comply. His voice is still a bit stuffy from where he very nearly cried. It’s not even the weirdest or most humiliating thing he’s done tonight, and they are both still clothed.

Before he can register, Kylo’s arms have left him completely and he’s been pushed face first into the filthy, soppy feeling carpet, smoke and pot and mold attacking his nostrils.

Kylo is on him again, knees parted around Hux’s thighs, reaching underneath him to roughly unfasten the fly of his pants, shoving them down to below his knees, boxer briefs following.

Hux howls up and into the dry rasp of Kylo’s denim clad hardness digging into the bare cleft of his ass, brushing over his entrance.

“You came all this way for my dick and all the sudden you’re too good to ask for it?” Kylo is pressed forward now, his chest flush to Hux’s back, and he speaks at the juncture of his neck and ear between his shallow thrusts.

“Just -- _fuck_ , fine, god. Get in me. You piece of shit.”

Kylo bites down at Hux’s shoulder and Hux thinks, in some far away part of his brain, what a goddamn shame that after months of watching Kylo’s dick every night he can’t see it now, watch it spread him open --

“ _Lube!_ ” He shouts, loud enough Kylo stills completely above him.

“...What.”

“In my -- my pocket, I brought -- ”

“You think I’m some idiot or something?”

Hux tries to throw a look over his shoulder, frowning.

“I’m just trying to look out for my asshole. Asshole. You’d do the same if I was prying you open with that thing.”

Suddenly, Hux is being flipped onto his back, watching as Kylo slips his grease stained black pants halfway down his thighs. His thick cock sways above him, just as intimidating as it was on his laptop screen.

“This thing?” Kylo scoots up on his knees to nudge at Hux’s mouth with the rosy head. “This thing your thirsty ass drove over here to get? Came to get fucked by a stranger, you desperate -- _ngh_.”

Hux is done with him talking and done with not having that dick in him in some way or another. Propping up on his elbows as much as he’s able with the big oaf’s weight on top of him, he wraps his lips around as much of Kylo’s girth as he can, feeling his jaw crack as he tries to accommodate it. Glancing up under his lashes, Hux finds it hard to look away from the omnipresent hatchet chain around Kylo’s neck, bobbing in time to the small, shallow bucks Kylo makes into the hot, slick give of Hux’s mouth like a pathetically familiar metronome. Already Hux feels the pavlovian tightening grip in his balls.

Kylo wrenches free with no warning, digging in Hux’s pants pockets to pull out the little bottle of lube, pouring some on his fingers.

“You do this at home, don’t you? You think of me and fuck yourself on your skinny little fingers. Can you even feel them inside you?” He’s playing at Hux’s entrance, barely pressing in before removing his fingers to dance around the little pucker, brushing underneath the tight weight of his balls. The first finger is enough to push him over the edge, but spite keeps him from coming by the skin of his teeth -- no way was he embarrassing himself like that. He won’t be coming back here again, so this time has to count. The next two are a blur, as Hux is laser focused on not blowing his load before they even started. Kylo might keep babbling, Hux isn’t really sure of anything until the blunt, slick end of his cock starts to fill him up and Hux thinks, yes, that maybe he wants to die a little bit.

Kylo pushes in slowly and even waits a little, when the burning drag stops and Hux realizes that he’s finally in all the way. Endorphin induced hallucination or otherwise, Kylo’s cock is suddenly both the only thing keeping him together, like the center of his body’s gravity, and the unbearable, filling stretch that’s splitting him in two.

So much better than Mean Bastard Eugene.

“Move -- _move_ \-- so help me, you f -- ”

Hux screams as Kylo does exactly that, pounding into him with mean, sharp snaps of his hips. Too infrequently, he’d brush that soft, spongy place that made his eyes cross, likely by virtue of the size of him opposed to skill or intent.

Kylo bends forward to suck at Hux’s neck -- if Hux could think past the thick, splitting pressure pressing on the tight white coil building down low in his groin he might try to reciprocate; instead he just claws at the broad expanse of Kylo’s back inexpertly. Not that he gives a shit, ultimately.

He comes without much warning right after Kylo does the same, and is either blacked out or asleep before the high is totally gone.

***

Poe’s day is already shit. This week has been shit. Bee brought home some plague straight from the depths of hell that probably only middle schools were vile enough to breed, and he and Bee had spent most of the night shitting their brains out or vomiting one. But he can’t miss any more work, so he’s been chugging Pepto since 4:30 the wrong side of sunrise and trying to find a place for Bee to stay and take the day off of school. His upstairs neighbor Rey is off with some ailing uncle and despite what Bee says, after the last lighter fluid mishap they aren’t able to stay by themselves anymore.

So Poe is left no other option but knocking at Kylo’s door, Bee leaning weakly against the side of the trailer.

“Kylo, buddy, it’s Poe, open up. It’s important --”

Aging is hell. As the door opens to the dim living area, a shirtless Kylo blearily greeting them, Poe doesn’t even see the half nude man curled on the dirty carpet, face smooshed in a half full ashtray, an empty Faygo bottle sticking half out of his ass.

Poe doesn’t, he ignored the glasses prescription the doctor gave him last year, but Bee does.

“ _Motherfucking_ goddamn _shit_ balls! Mr. _Hux_!”

Said Hux jerks himself off of the floor as if he’s been shot, and Bee starts puking over the porch railing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still so very sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly edited repost of something I deleted a while back. This Juggalo AU is entirely the brainchild of @mob-lake and @japastiel. They are kind enough to let me play in their sandbox.
> 
> I'd say thanks for reading, but maybe I should apologize instead?


End file.
